Walt's Full Measure
by Dboba
Summary: Takes place at the end of "Full Measure" except this time Victor never comes to pick Walter up and he is well on his way to securing his position as Gustavo Fring's methamphetamine manufacturer the one way he sees fit - killing Gale Boetticher on his own.
1. I don't wanna stop

**A/N: **This is my first attempt at fan fiction and I had quite a bit of fun. I am a 17 year old high school student and I have been distraught by the absence of the show. I'd like to keep it alive to myself personally by writing some different plot lines from my own imagination, and I think you guys may find it entertaining. I'd like to thank you for reading and the next chapters should be up soon. All reviews are welcome as I'd love to see how I did and what I can improve on. Now enough blabbing and on to the story!

**I do not own Breaking Bad or any characters from Breaking Bad.**

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Walter walked out to his car gingerly trying to take in what he was about to do. He was going to have to do something he'd never done before: kill a very innocent man. Sure he was a producer of the same product that Walt had made and that was highly illegal, but he was positive Gale had never killed anyone or even come close to it. Gale was the sweetest, nicest, slightly nerdy soul Walter had come to know in this business, and now he was going to have to kill him.

He hopped into his trusty 2004 Pontiac Aztec and sat in the driver's seat with a sad look on his face. It was astonishing to him that it had come to this, and he really didn't want to do it, but he had to. What other choice did he have? It was either him or Gale, and in that decision he knew that the victor would be he, Heisenberg. Walt reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun, Jesse's gun, that was given to him for the occasion. He opened the chamber of the gun and saw that it was fully loaded, but he knew he'd only need one bullet. Maybe Jesse was right, maybe this wasn't the right way. Maybe he should go to the police.

No. They were in too deep and Walter would be in too much trouble, and they would take all his money – his _family's _money. Walt knew this was the only way even though it was definitely not the right way. He tried to rationalize in his head what he was about to do and somehow manage to make what he was about to do seem … less not-okay. Walt figured that he'd already killed Krazy-8 with a bike lock and his own two hands, and Krazy-8 was a nice guy just as much as Gale is, Gale is just… stranger. Walt looked down at the firearm and a single tear streaked down his cold blooded face. How could he do something like this… again?

Walt knew he couldn't let emotion control this. This was business. His life was at stake here. His family was at stake. Everything he'd been working for the past better half of a year was at stake, and Walt knew this couldn't all be for nothing. Mr. White's frown of sorrow and sobbing turned into a demonic and dangerous frown as he wiped away the tear and its streak from his cheek. He closed the gun up and got it ready and then stood up in his seat as he shoved the gun into the back of his khakis. The former chemistry teacher put his key into the ignition and started the car. He then put his hands on the wheel and drummed his hands lightly on the wheel as he tried to "pump himself up" for the occasion. With his game face on, Walter was ready. He put the car in reverse, and backed out of the driveway.

As the chemistry genius drove down the streets of Albuquerque he couldn't stop thinking about how horrible what he was about to do was. He figured he'd turn on some tunes to ease his mind or distract him from what was about to take place. Walt wasn't in the mood to listen to the radio; it wasn't a radio type of night. He reached between the two front seats and found a CD that must have been Junior's. It was an Ozzy Osbourne album, one of his newer ones. Walter hadn't heard it and was in the mood for something to pump him up, so he slid it in and turned it on pretty loud. The beginning was fast and long with a pretty good rhythm, Walt liked it. It wasn't his usual taste, but he found it enticing.

"I don't know what they're talkin' about  
I'm making my own decisions  
This thing that I found ain't gonna bring me down  
I'm like a junkie without an addiction.

Mama don't cry I just wanna stay highLike playin' with danger and fear  
Everybodies walkin' but nobody's talkin'  
It looks a lot better from here."

This was something Walter had never liked before but today he found it appropriate, maybe heavy metal was getting better, or maybe Walter was changing. He kept driving and driving trying to ease his mind but nothing was working, how could he possibly ease his mind about this? Walt wanted to forget about it but he knew he had to think about how he was going to execute, so to speak, his plan.

_ Walk up to the door, knock, pull the gun out and just do it. Don't talk, don't acknowledge him. That'll just make it harder. Just shoot. Just pull out the gun and shoot. _Walter kept thinking to himself how he wanted to do this but he just didn't know. _Does Gale deserve to blindly know why he's dying? I'm sure Gus didn't bring him up to speed on how he's going to kill me. Gus probably told him that I was leaving or quitting or something. Maybe I should give him an explanation about Gus, about everything that's happened and why he has to go. It's the right thing to do. _

"Why don't they ever listen to me?  
Is this a one way conversation?  
Nothing they say is gonna set me free  
Don't need no mental masturbation.

Too many religions for only one god  
I don't need another savior  
Don't try to change my mind, you know I'm one of a kind  
Ain't gonna change my bad behavior!"

Walter was now coming up on the neighborhood where Gale resided. It didn't make much sense to him that Gale lived in such a small place given that he was now a meth cook, granted not for very long. He had a great resume and all, extensive education and extremely impressive qualifications. Perhaps Gus wasn't paying Gale as much as Walt because he was unaware of the potential pay being so high. Oh well. Thinking about it now Gale reminded Walt of himself 15 to 20 years ago, which made him even sadder.

He had to snap out of it. He had now pulled up to the apartment complex where his true testament of devotion to the life of crime Walter was. Walter knew he was going to do it now. He was sure. He knew he was already on the highway to hell, and this was but another speed bump. Actually, it was more like the opposite of a speed bump. It was like he was now speeding faster and faster on this highway into the fiery pits of the devil's playground.

The music kept playing as Walt sat in the car, which was now parked in a close parking spot to the building. He was breathing quickly, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. He still couldn't believe it. It had come to this, and he was going to go through with it. Walt took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes with both hands on the wheel still and bowed his head. Upon looking up he had the same begrudging look on his face. He wore a face of dead serious cold blooded viciousness.

Mr. White opened the door of the Aztec and was about to get out, but then he glanced over at the passenger seat and saw his pork pie hat – which had now been known as "The Heisenberg Hat", and picked it up off the seat. He held it in his hands for a minute, just looking at it, marveling at it.

"All my life I've been over the top  
I don't know what I'm doing  
All I know is I don't wanna stop.  
All fired up, I'm gonna go till I drop  
You're either in or in the way  
Don't make me, I don't wanna stop!"

Walter put on the hat slowly, making sure that it fit correctly and perfectly. He slid his finger across the brim and looked up at himself in the rear view mirror. Walter then lowered his eyebrows and a slow smile began to trickle onto his face – he was once again Heisenberg. _This was it. _


	2. Uncertainty

**A/N: Thanks for reading guys, I really appreciate it. Please leave a review because I'm not that great of a writer and I'm really looking to improve. I hope you enjoy, thanks again!**

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A shiver instantly shot down the spine of the mad man walking into the building of his unwarranted prey. He started to walk across the parking lot quietly as many bystanders walked by. He'd give a head nod or a casual hello, but it was like a dagger to the chest every time he had to speak. Walt didn't like what he was about to do, he didn't like it one bit, but it had to be done. The saddest part was he didn't regret it, he didn't regret getting into this situation with Fring; he just knew he had to get out of it somehow and in some way.

The steps to the apartment neared him as he stepped closer and closer. He rifled up the steps quickly as he wanted this to be as quick and painless as possible. He walked up to the front door and reached for the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. Walt looked over and saw the string of buzz in buttons for each individual apartment and then looked at apartment six – Gale's apartment.

No. He couldn't do that, could he? Gale was his "friend" – at least so Gale thought – so why would it be so weird of Walt to buzz Gale? Walt still didn't want to go down that road, it'd be cruel. It should be a surprise; Gale shouldn't have that much insight. Walt turned his head to see if anyone was coming but nobody was which was probably good for him in the long run. If someone were entering the same building as Walt they would surely notice him and identify him to the police after this was over.

He didn't know what to do. How was he supposed to get in? He had to get in after all; tomorrow he might be too late. An idea popped into the evil genius's mind suddenly. Walt pulled out his wallet and reached for one of his credit cards – it didn't have much use anymore anyway. He stuck it into the crack of the door and jimmied the lock open after struggling for a little while. A grand smirk shined off the face of Heisenberg as he entered the corridor of the apartments.

A few deep breaths were taken now as he was getting closer and closer. Then again, most of Walt's breaths tonight would turn out to be deep, and why wouldn't they be? He walked down the hallway looking at each golden number nailed to each door. He kept walking until he reached his destination, apartment #6.

Walt could hear something inside, some type of music. The voices were really high and screechy and he thought one of them was possibly Gale. Walt reached down and grabbed his firearm and held it in the palm of his hand in firing position aimed down at the floor, his long sleeved coat covered it up for the most part however. A tear streamed down his face as he knew _this was really it._ Mr. White was having a very hard time keeping it together, nearly sobbing where he stood. He then reached and knocked thrice on the door.

"One moment," Gale yelped from inside the apartment and Walt stood in a mental panic. Seconds passed, the longest seconds of Walter's long now crime filled life, and then the door opened slowly.

"Walter?! To what do I owe the pleasure? So great to see you friend, come on in!" Gale chimed out, excited to see what he thought was a friend. He had no earthly clue what was going on. Walt didn't enter however; he just stood in the door way as tears streamed down his face in sorrow. "Walt…? What's the matter…?"

With great hesitation Walt raised the firearm and pointed it straight towards Gale's forehead. Walt was tearing up more and more, his eyes now glazed over with tears just standing in his eyes waiting to fall. Gale's smile instantly turned into a panic, he had no idea what was going on.

"W...Walt… What… What are you doing…?" Gale let out with breaks, not being able to grasp words with his voice. He had never had a gun pointed at him before. "Why are you- What… Do…. I don't understand…" Gale began to weep along with Walt; the two were in quite a sadistic situation.

There they stood feet apart from each other, Gale with his hands in the air as if trying to show his innocence. Walt hadn't blinked since the door opened, he had the gun raised but couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. "You don't have to do this Walt, whatever… whatever it is we… we can talk about it..." Gale pleaded out trying to save his own life which he still didn't know why he was having to.

Walt dropped his head now as if he couldn't keep it up any longer, and wiped his tears away on the sleeve of his coat (the one not holding the gun). His sad frown had once again turned into a vile demonic frown as his eyes started to fill with tears once again. Walt opened his mouth which was shaking in sadness as he tried to find the words to say – the last words that Gale would ever hear.

"Gale…" Walt muttered out very softly as more tears streamed down his face. Gale stood frozen with his mouth open now with a questioning look on his face as a single tear ran down his cheek. He didn't know what to say, he was unable to speak. "…I am so … sorry."

Bang. Walt pulled the trigger and a single bullet penetrated the face of poor Gale Boetticher. He fell to the ground as the droplets from Walter's eyes had – lifeless and in agony.

Walt began to turn away but before he did a loud whistling noise came from the apartment, it was a tea pot sitting on Gale's stove. Walt looked at it and then down at Gale who was now lying on the ground next to a coffee table. Walt stepped into the room and looked down at Gale who was as dead as a doornail, blood seeping out of him and into the carpet. Walt looked up now, crying, and noticed a notebook with lighting strikes on the cover, underneath the strikes in bright yellow boxes were the words "LAB NOTES".

Walt picked up the notebook and turned to leave before the neighbors could come but suddenly he heard a noise – a vibrating noise – and it was coming from a table or shelf nearby him and what used to be Gale. It was Gale's cell phone.

Walter walked over to it and picked it up, and flipped it open and read the screen.

Incoming Call. Gustavo Fring.


	3. Decisions

**Well I gotta say this is getting fun. I'm not sure how far I'll take this yet but I've got some ideas. As always thank you for leaving a review, favorite, or follow. Any constructive criticism or just plain comments are welcomed. This chapter was originally going to be longer but I think it's a good stopping point for now. Thanks again!**

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Walt didn't know what to do now, he was panicked and crying over what he had just done, but yet he was also feeling a bit devious towards the man that he knew was going to kill him. When you make the battle Walt vs. Gale there was no question that Walt would win.

Walter was not going to lie down and wait for death from cancer and he wasn't about to do it for a Chilean psychopath. He knew he had to do a few things at this particular moment but he didn't know which to do first, but the phone had been ringing for a little while and Walt had to make a decision, he accepted the call.

With lab notebook, phone, and gun in his hands, Walter raced out into the hallway as he put the phone up to his ear.

"Hello Gus," Walter said with a grin, still crying however as he burst through the front door of the apartment complex and headed straight for the Aztec.

"…Gale…? You sound… To whom am I speaking to?" Gustavo questioned, not knowing what was going on.

"You're speaking with the man that killed him," Walter replied as he stepped into his vehicle and slid the key into the ignition, getting away from the crime scene as fast as possible, but then again there was no escape from himself.

Gus paused, not knowing what to say or what was going on, and then it was all folding together.

"…Walter?" Gustavo questioned in a confused tone, still contemplating why Walt answered Gale's phone.

"No… This… This is Heisenberg," Walter let out with defiance. He immediately turned the phone sideways away from his ear and snapped it in half, disconnecting it permanently.

Walter then drove off into the night, wallowing in pity for Gale, but happy to the point that he saved himself and most likely his family – for the time being anyway.

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_What have I gotten myself into? Pent up here at some shitty laser tag joint because drug kingpins are out to get me? What kind of life is this? Those men deserved it though, and Mr. White was right for what he did. They had to go; they used a child to sling crystal and then just killed him, those bastards. _

What seemed like a million thoughts dashed through the young mind of Jesse Pinkman, who was still hiding out in the back of Lazer Base.

Jesse picked up his glass pipe and began to dig it into a snack sized zip lock bag filled with meth. He got the bowl fully packed and then reached over to grab his lighter, when his cell phone suddenly began to ring. Incoming Call, Mr. White. Without hesitation Jesse answered it as fast as possible.

"Did you do it…?" Jesse asked quietly, not even knowing if he wanted to know the answer to his question.

No reply. Silence.

"Yo…Mr. White… Did you do it…?" Jesse asked again softly, now knowing he needed to know the answer for him and Walt's safety.

"Yes, I did it." Walter answered dominantly with deepness to his voice which cut into Jesse's thoughts like daggers.

Jesse didn't know what to say. He couldn't believe it'd come this far for him, for both of them. Jesse's mind was just one giant entanglement of emotions now. He had barely known Gale and only met him once that Jesse could remember, but for some reason this really impacted him. Not in the same way Jane's death or Andrea's little brother's did, but this one still cut him up inside. Jesse knew that someday this could possibly be his fate at the hands of Mr. White, Gus, Mike, Saul … Okay probably not Saul.

"Okay…" Jesse gulped, not looking forward to hearing the answer of his next question either. "So… What do we do now?"

"I honestly have no idea. I guess we just wait and see how Gus retaliates." Jesse hated when not even Mr. White knew answers to questions like this.

"Well how is he gonna find out? It's not like we can just call him and be all like 'Yo, we shot your chemist' or whatever! Mr. White… we need a plan or somethin', you know?" Jesse said, now worrying about their situation rather than Gale's.

"I… already spoke with him," Walt stated as he continued to drive home from the apartment complex where Gale had met his demise.

"You what?!" Jesse burst out thinking the worst.

"Listen… We should talk about this in person… I can't tonight, but tomorrow… we'll discuss this tomorrow," Walt said in his normal voice with his normal attitude, which kind of spooked Jesse.

_He just killed a man he worked with not even an hour ago, why does it sound like he's not even bothered by that? Mr. White is a sick individual if that's the case. Maybe it's just been a while since he killed Gale and he's had time to brush it off… But how do you brush off doing something so vicious?_

Jesse's thinking gave a slight pause, but Jesse was finally able to reach his words.

"Okay.."

Jesse shut his flip phone and sat it to the side. He suddenly felt a jolt of anxiety grasp him from within which sent him off in a reign of terrible thoughts. His back slowly slid sideways along the wall with his lower body staying in place as he slowly hit the floor, now lying sideways. He slowly brought his legs up and got into a ball formation, clinching his legs with his arms. He slowly reached over and pulled a blanket over himself as the bowl of blue lie next to him.

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Speeding down a dirt road as the sun was vastly rising behind him, Mike needed to get to the bottom of what was going on. Gustavo had reached out to him and told him to meet at the farm, which was never a good sign, especially when the phone call occurs in the middle of the night. Gus's meetings had a weird way of always being either at sunset or at dawn.

With the anticipated end of Walter coming soon Mike figured that might be the news, but he knew better. If it were something that simple Gus would have just told him over the phone, but instead he arranged a meeting. That's when Mike knew something probably went wrong, and he didn't like it.

As he neared the farm there were no cars in sight except for the Volvo, Fring's car. Mike got a good chuckle every time he saw that poor excuse for a car, but he knew Gustavo was a smart man for having it. Not flaunting your bankroll is a key in this business.

He pulled up right next to Fring's car and got out slowly. He bit his lip as he had become accustom to and started for the stairs to enter. As he looked up he saw Gustavo open the door and peer down at him.

Fring let out a big sigh with a fire in his eyes that not even Mike had seen before, and put up his hand towards the door inviting Mike into the usual meeting room.

Gustavo walked over and undid the buttons on his forest green suit and sat down behind a long white table. Mike stood by the door waiting to hear the news but Fring bowed his head towards the seat across from him with a frown.

"Please," Gustavo motioned towards the seat a second time as Mike started to walk over.

Mike knew something was wrong here, he just didn't know what exactly. He knew Fring was about to bring him up to speed but he didn't really want to be brought up to speed. Ehrmantraut pulled out his chair and took a seat. He knew this was going to be ugly based on many facts.

For one, it was just him and Fring which usually meant that it was a pretty private matter involving a commotion of other people; otherwise they would also be with him. Second off, Gustavo usually would give a smile or speak a lot more in the few minutes he'd been there. Thirdly, they came all the way out to the farm which means they either needed to be secluded or unknown about, not by the DEA or police, but by employees.

Gus let out another sigh and began to bring Mike up to speed with the previous endeavor.

"We have a major problem," Gus let out, softly spoken as always.

"Yeah," Mike said sarcastically, letting out a deep breath. "I figured that's why I was here. Let me take a wild guess, Pinkman again?"

"No, Both of them… again." Fring said regretfully, nothing went the way he wanted it to anymore.

Mike sucked his lips against his gums and opened his mouth slightly, letting out a click-type noise.

"Shocker," the bald man said sarcastically looking into the eyes of the Chilean, which didn't exactly enlighten the mood. "Who'd they kill this time?"

Mike's jocular comment was met with another deep inhale and exhale from Fring.

"Gale," Gustavo said as Mike's emotion changed immediately. A giant frown came up on the face of the older man as he didn't even know what to say. Mike got up and started to pace back and forth with his hand on his chin, thinking.

Gus sat in silence respecting Mike's reaction. Ehrmantraut walked over to a nearby table with a Keurig coffee maker on top and flung the entire thing all over the floor. Gustavo raised one hand up, not too startled as he expecting such a reaction from his colleague, implying for him to stop.

"Please," Gustavo began again. "Take a seat."

"Well what the hell are we supposed to do now huh? He was the guy, _THE _guy, and now he's gone?" Mike screamed out in panic as he tried to calm down under the circumstances. He hadn't imagined that it would be this bad of news. He stepped towards the table and planted his palms on the table.

"It is a shame, I was very fond of Gale," Gustavo said with a mix of sadness and anger in his words. "However, there is nothing we can do about it now."

Mike took shorter paces now, winding down from the news he was enlightened with. He wiped his hand down the back of his head and let out a big sigh.

"You're sure he's dead? You can never be too sure," Mike snapped a bit lower tempered than before.

"Unfortunately," replied the businessman. "I had Victor check it out a bit later last night."

Mike put both hands behind his head now, trying to think of what the next move is, but he simply couldn't.

"What's our next move?" Mike sat down once again, ready to talk about the prospect of the business.

Gus let out another sigh; there would been a lot of that going around the two of them today. It was just one of those days, days they both dreaded.

"Well," Gus sat still with his hands on the desk with his fingers interlaced, just as he had basically the whole time Mike had been there. "Clearly these two are a problem, I know that and you know that."

Mike nodded sarcastically, as if saying "no shit" with everything above his shoulders _except _his mouth.

"We need to find a new solution to this problem… but it will take time."

"What do we do until then?" questioned Mike, simply trying to get orders out of his boss.

"I guess we'll have to call for a meeting with those two," settled Fring. "We can't let this go without repercussions."

"Well of course," Mike leaned back in his chair now, looking a bit more comfortable. "We just need to find out what those repercussions will be."


End file.
